


Pilgrim & The Beast

by somewhatcanon, TeaTones



Series: Magical Boyfriends [1]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Beast Wirt, Bipper, GF, Gravity Falls - Freeform, M/M, Pinescones, Run Away, otgw - Freeform, over the garden wall - Freeform, pinescone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8589979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhatcanon/pseuds/somewhatcanon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaTones/pseuds/TeaTones
Summary: Surely, the Beast had been done away with by the woodsman, but perhaps parts of him were still lurking around, still vengeful and angry; always a part of Wirt. Not the vengeful and angry part, but the Beast. That's what was always a part of him.He sat on the faded grey seat and turned the key in the ignition. With a lackluster rev of the engine, he began the painfully slow exit from the parking lot. Not escaping him was the tree he'd viewed earlier, standing tall and mocking him from its place by the window. What did, however, was the way grass began to slowly sprout around him, fighting its way through the cracks in the pavement beneath his feet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you somewhat_canon for helping me edit!

I’m floating, suspended in a smothering darkness. My ears are overstimulated with the sounds of hushed whispers that only seem to get louder as the seconds tick by.

“He’s coming.”

“We have to go.”

“We have to go!”

“We have to run!”

Then I’m falling, blood pumping through my ears and body plunging further into a crisp darkness. A distinct voice rises above the rest, slicing through the static of panicked words, and with it I go numb.

_There is only me._

The Beast is coming.

My fall comes to an end as I feel my feet hit the cold damp ground; my eyes snap open and I take in my surroundings. Tall chestnut and elm trees tower over me, along with the occasional cluster of birch wood, all of it illuminated by the light of a single lantern sitting by my feet, the stars, and the waning moon above. I stand.

_There is only my way._

Hushed whispers and the sound of people scurrying just beyond the trees catch my attention: the same hushed whispers from before. Their urgent words fade in and out of the indecipherable jumble of voices.

“He’s coming.”

“We must take shelter.”

“He’s returned.”

With the Beast’s haunting melody still echoing behind me, I grab the lantern and follow the trail of voices. I began to weave my way through the brambles and bushes that took shelter beneath the large canopy of trees, my cape getting snagged or caught on more than one occasion by overgrown brambles and bushes.

_There is only the forest._

“The Beast is almost here,”

“The Beast is getting closer,”

“We have nowhere to hide,”

“The trees…”

The Beast’s song is still present, never volume nor tempo. My sight wanders to the branches high in the trees, and I lift the lantern to get a better look. I am searching for anyone, anyone at all, but there is nothing, only branches and leaves.

Then, they begin shouting and screaming.

“H-He’s got me!”

“I’m not ready to go!”

“I’m not leaving you behind!”

“Kids, run!”

Minutes tick by, and the shouting soon comes to an end. What was once a blazing wildfire of voices is all but stomped out, and with it, the Beast’s song had come to an end.

_And there is only surrender._

I found them, better yet, what was left of them, minutes after their silence. Their bodies, all twisted up in clustered sprouts of edelwood, were far beyond saving.

There were two adults: both women, one with the look of anguish and fear painting her face. Her hand firmly grasps her wife’s, and the other stretches out in an attempt to shield herself. The other had fallen down on one knee, which was bound by roots. Her teeth had bit into her lower lip in an attempt to hold back her true fear. Both seemingly sacrificed themselves in an attempt to save the others. With feet bound by roots and edelwood embedding itself into their skin, twisting their bodies like broken marionettes, they are too far gone, and all for naught.

I shift my gaze from them to the other three members of their group, who stand a good six feet away. They are two girls and one boy, all three no older than 14. The boy, who is the oldest of the group as far as I can tell, is bound to the dirt by his ankle and left side. He appears to have tripped, or perhaps been claimed by prying roots on his getaway. He must have been the first of the kids to go. The other two had attempted to pull him from the ground and now pay the price. Ultimately, they were all gone.

I wish I could feel sorrow or remorse for this family, but in this place I feel a complete disconnect from my emotions.

In this moment, I feel nothing.

_But would it have mattered?_

~Pilgrim & The Beast~

Wirt awoke in his room, and was immediately panicked to find himself twisted up in his sheets--almost like being bound by edlewood. He kicked and shook till he was free from his prison and tucked his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them tight and burying his face in them. These dreams had been occurring ever since an incident on Halloween almost two years ago. After all that time, he thought he should have been used to them, but he remained shaken even now.

That night’s dream was especially rough on him; usually he would just be wandering around aimlessly, and not every night did he see the Beasts newest victims. When he did, they were never this recent. Usually when he did find the bodies, they would be almost completely consumed; maybe an arm would be sticking out, half formed into a branch reaching to the sky, or the remnants of clothes tangled in the leaves, but never the full bodies.

This time, it reminded him of Greg.

To this day he still felt guilt for pushing his brother away like he did, for making him feel like it was his fault they were lost. Really it had all been Wirt. He blamed himself for everything that happened, and why shouldn't he? He was the one who climbed up the wall, panicked when his crush found his tape, and jumped onto the tracks. Heck, he even jumped out of the way of the train and left him there! The only reason Greg is still alive was because he followed him.

All Greg wanted to do was go frog hunting. Wirt promised him he would take him, even when he had no intention of doing so.

He really was just an all around terrible person, right? Maybe it was just his lack of sleep talking, but he truly believed this.

Wirt shifted to get off the mattress, springs squeaking beneath him as he did. The burnt orange carpet floors were rough on his feet, though a comfortable roughness. Not like cold damp dirt.

He made his way to the door, being conscious when opening it, mindful of its loud nature as it squeaked in protest. His door right across the hall was the bathroom. At the end was his mother and step dad’s. And right in between was Greg’s. He tiptoed over, the door always cracked open, “Coz that's how I like it.” Wirt mumbled, mocking his brother jokingly. In some ways, he guessed, their relationship had changed.

He pushed the door open just enough to slip through and crept his way over to his bed. Greg’s face was illuminated in the soft glow of their frog’s heating lamp, which Wirt found calming. Greg was safe and not wrapped in an endless loop of nightmares like Wirt. Peacefully dreaming.

Wirt sat beside his bed, pushing aside the stray action figures and Legos Greg had played with that day. Certainly he wouldn’t attempt a try at sleeping tonight, but he could find comfort in the dark room where he knew his brother was safe.

He took in the mess of crayon marks on the walls done when he was younger, scattered coloring books, Lego blocks, and toys Greg had in various corners of his room. Even Wirt’s old train set was recognizable. Other little capsule toys he collected were jammed in it’s windows and carts, and the train stood on its side with its tracks in pieces. Wirt had given it to Greg after the incident, not wanting a constant reminder of how he almost got them both killed.

Greg was so surprised when Wirt first gave it to him:

_“And you're not gonna take it away or nothing?” He asked, hopefully “I can really have it? Are you sure?”_

Wirt guessed Greg got more use out of it anyways. There’s no need to keep it, because it was a kid’s toy, despite it being a gift from his dad. His eyes clenched shut and shook his head. No need to think about him. Not right now, and probably not ever.

Wirt hadn’t heard from his father in over ten years, and it was definitely for the best. How could he have idolized him for so long, even after what he did--

  
Wirt's eyes shifted to their frog, Jason Funderburker, who had been silently watching him from his perch up on Greg’s bureau inside the tank. The frog blinked slowly, one eye at a time, then gave a tired croak.

“Shh,” Wirt pressed his index finger to his lips, to which the frog shifted around to get into a comfortable position before falling back asleep. Such a weird little guy.

Wirt spent the majority of the night sitting by his younger brother’s bed, only moving to leave when the sun’s ray peeked through the window next to Greg’s bed. It was time to get ready for a long day at school.

~Pilgrim & The Beast~

“If you’ll all turn to page 143 in your textbooks, you’ll find…” Wirt’s math teacher droned on. His fingers thrummed on the desk, its wooden surface carved and defaced with mindless scribblings. He huffed, already too tired to be dealing with a long lecture on coordinate planes and graphing. This being the last class of the day, he was watching the clock tick by, agonizingly slowly.

Sarah, who sat next to him in that class, nudged him with her elbow. “Everything okay there?” She asked. “You seem more tired and mopey than usual.”

“Hah!” Wirt scoffed. “You're real good at that observation thing you did there, someone should really give you an award. Really.” he deadpanned.

“Geez man, tone down the sass. If I wasn't your best friend, I’d think you were _really_ mad at me.”

He crossed his arms and sighed, “But yeah, no. I got maybe two hours of sleep last night, so...”

  
“Another nightmare?”

He nodded.

“You should really try that prescription your doctor gave you,” she advised. “My sister takes quetiapine too, and she says it really helped her with her insomnia.” Sarah glanced down at her textbook in an attempt to look involved in the lesson, jotting down a couple of notes.

“You know how I feel about taking pills,” he frowned.

“I know.” she sighed, “It’s just you'd be sleeping better if you did. There's really no shame in having to take prescription meds, man. You’re taking care of yourself, and if anyone gives you shit for it, they’re clearly assholes.” Sarah continued scribbling notes.

“Like, just tell me and I’ll beat ‘em up. Give ‘em the ol’ one-two-punch.” Her notes shifted to bored doodles.

“That’s not why I don't want to take them.” He shifted in his seat. “Well…not entirely. I don’t know…I just don't feel comfortable relying on--”

“Mr. Young? Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?” The teacher turned to him. “I mean, you must be an expert of the material if you’re willing to talk through the lesson.”

“N-no, no, sorry sir,” he stuttered, embarrassed for having been called out in front of the class. His cheeks grew red.

“Thought so. Now pay attention.”

Wirt glared at Sarah and she cracked a smirk. “Sorry.” she whispered.

“Shh!”

“You shh!”

He opened up his textbook to the page Sarah had and took down the notes up on the board. Feeling satisfied with that small amount of effort put in, as mathematics really wasn't his forte, he looked back out the window. He focused on the bare branches on the tree a couple feet away. Spring brought new life, and soon leaves would be abundant on its branches. But right now, the tree was naked. _How long till then?_ He mused, thinking about the videos he’d seen a while back of sped up flowers blooming. It would be interesting to see the same in nature.

Would it be like the edelwood trees rapid growth?

His attention shifted back to the clock. Still fifteen minutes till the end of the day.

When he looked back to the tree, he was shocked to see newly budding leaves sprout on the once bare branches.

_What the...how is that even possible?_

He smacked himself in the face a couple times and looked back, certain he’d been seeing things; yet sure enough, the leaves were still there.

He nudged Sarah with his elbow to get her attention.

“Wirt, Mr. Davis is going to catch us. What is it that could possibly be so important?” She chided.

“Oh please, you got off scot free last time!” He sniped. “Would it really hurt you to humor me for a second here?”

“Fine what is it?”

“Take a look at that tree, it was bare when we got in here right?” he tapped the window in the direction of the tree in question.

“I didn’t really pay attention to that. But seeing as though there are leaves there now...” She looked back at the board to compare answers.

“I swear there were no leaves there a minute ago.”

“You’ve finally lost it. Too much sleep deprivation has finally killed your brain.”

“Gee thanks.” he deadpanned for the second time that evening.

The bell rang and the class began its routine end of the day shuffle, collecting papers and books to be tucked away in their backpacks and filing out of class. Sarah followed suit, though waited back a little longer.

“Remember what I said though,” she reminded Wirt, “or at least keep it in mind as another option. I’m really worried about you.” She averted her gaze from Wirt to the desk as he let out a tired sigh and collected his things. “You’ve been getting less and less sleep, I can tell.” Wirt furrowed his brow, frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was ready to protest when Sarah cut him off again: “I mean, taking into consideration your newest fashion statement with those bags under your eyes. I have to worry about your sleeping habits, lest you come up with more bizarre outfits.” Her attempt at playing off her concerns with a joke notwithstanding, she sighed. “I’ll see you later, Wirt. Sorry if I upset you.” Hiking her bag over her shoulder, she left him alone with his thoughts.

Wirt knew Sarah was only looking out for him, and he knew he would do the same if the roles were reversed, so he felt kinda bad that he was being so cold about it. He never got the courage to actually talk about the content of his nightmares with anyone, and as far as anyone else was concerned, this lack of sleep was triggered by the fall he and his brother took two years ago.

Wirt collected his things and organized them before slipping them in his backpack, then made his way to the crowded hallway full of rushing teens trying to make it to their respective buses and cars as soon as possible.

Maybe the fall was playing a part in it, but he’d be giving the incident too much credit if he placed complete blame on it. Sure, the guilt of being the reason he and his brother almost died will always shadow him, but there was more to it.

Perhaps it was better to imagine these incidents as people, both faceless and nameless, always lurking. They were the personification of those emotions he felt, the vivid reminder of an event far behind. And sure, he could’ve forgotten about them for a short while, but he always found them again and again, popping up at the most inopportune times.

He navigated the school halls like a seasoned champ, this being his senior year in high school, his assigned parking space was the targeted destination. Seasoned champ though he was, it didn't stop him from being pushed around by impatient students who’ve had enough with school and wanted out.

Wirt didn’t feel like he could talk to anyone about this, but perhaps he brought a piece of the Unknown back with him. He’d had a while to think about it, and it was beginning to make sense as time goes on.

He reached the school's main entrance, and the parking lot was a cacophony of loud impatient horns and the chatter from his peers. Taking one step at a time, as his clumsy nature had already sent him tumbling once--but never again. Oh, the laughs he dealt with that day. It was horrible.

In the beginning, the dreams felt simply like dreams. He could experience the emotions his newest dreams lacked, the forest wasn't painted in such muted and dark colors, there was no lantern, and most noteworthy, there was no Beast. Of course he’d never seen the Beast, but he could hear him, sense his presence, and he could even almost feel him stirring within.

Surely, the Beast had been done away with by the woodsman, but perhaps parts of him were still lurking around, still vengeful and angry; always a part of Wirt. Not the vengeful and angry part, but the Beast. That's what was always a part of him.

This was what he couldn't tell his parents about, his brother, his best friend, or even his doctor, because they would never understand. Perhaps Greg would, but he didn’t want to burden his brother with something that was supposed to be long gone.

Coming up to his old, used, navy blue motorcycle, chipped paint and rust in all, he clipped the buckle between both his backpack straps to keep them from slipping off his shoulders mid ride, and clipped the helmet that was hanging from the bike’s handle, on his head. He sat on the faded grey seat and turned the key in the ignition. With a lackluster rev of the engine, he began the painfully slow exit from the parking lot. Not escaping him was the tree he'd viewed earlier, standing tall and mocking him from its place by the window. What did, however, was the way grass began to slowly sprout around him, fighting its way through the cracks in the pavement beneath his feet.

~Pilgrim & The Beast~

That night, instead of enjoying a normal family meal where everyone would make a plate and head off to their respective areas, scattered through the house, James (Wirt’s stepfather and Greg's biological) decided it was the perfect night to drag the family out to dinner at some new Thai restaurant that opened up by where he worked.

This was how Wirt found himself sitting in a crowded restaurant at an almost equally crowded table seated next to Greg, who had an almost constant need to poke and prod him over pronunciations of menu items.

“Wirt, how do you say this?” He pointed to an item off the appetizer section, “Show-mee?”

“Shumai, like ‘shoe-my’. It's a kind of dim sum.” He looked over the design of the menu: black background, accented by white text, with bamboo style borders. “You'd like it. It's got shrimp.”

“Do you wanna split it?” He enthused. “Shumai is fun to say. Backwards, it spells ‘my shoes.’ Did you know that Wirt? That's a rock fact!” He punctuated his statement by pulling his rock facts rock from his coat pocket and showing him.

This earned him mild chastising from there mother. “Greg, I've told you once and I'll tell you again, no rocks at the dinner table.” Her tone was not as serious as her words. “Now put it away and decide what you’re going to eat before I let Wirt decide for you,” she joked, smirking, as Greg put the rock back in his pocket, followed by a “Sorry mom.”

“Imosh. Not quite ‘my shoes,’ but good try,” Wirt replied. “And sure, we can split an appetizer. I could go for some shumai.” Wirt considered his options for a moment, glancing at the meal options and analyzing the food on the table next to theirs. Neither he nor Greg would be able to finish a whole plate, considering the huge servings the restaurant dished out. “How's about we share a plate, Greg?” Wirt turned to face his brother. “The servings are big enough, and the Pad Thai looks good. You like that right?” _And it would be cheaper,_ he thought, but kept that to himself.

“You make a compelling argument, brother o'mine!” Greg gave the menu a once over before adding, “Oh, can we get the crispy chicken pad Thai?” nearly shouted in his excitement.

“Seeing as I've got nothing against chicken, sure,” Wirt replied, while taking a look at the drink selection, eyes zeroing on hot oolong tea.

From across the table, their mom was practically beaming, so proud to see her boys get along after years of Wirt shutting him out. Catching on, Wirt looked up, nervously clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry honey, I know I'm acting a little weird, but I'm just so happy to see the two of you getting along,” she began, setting her menu on top of James’s as she decided on what she was getting, “and I know it's been two years, but I'm just so happy!” His mother turned to James and bumped their shoulders.

“Now Angela, you’re flustering the poor boy,” he chided, doing the same.

“I-I just...” He put his hand through his hair, coming to a stop at the back of his head, “he’s my brother, so I figured I-I should start acting like one...” He grew quieter towards the end of his sentence.

Greg patted Wirt's arm. “There, there, brother o’mine, you're a good older brother.” He smirked as he pulled only half the rock out of his pocket as he whispered, “and that's a rock fact.” As if their mom couldn't hear him.

The waiter approached the table, “Hello, my name is Dan and I'll be your server this evening. Can I start you out with some drinks?” He provided, no doubt a rehearsed line.

After giving a final glance at the menu, Wirt folded it and placed it on top of the stack at the end of the table. He finally looked at the waiter and was momentarily struck speechless by the features of the boy before him: rounded face, framed with short windswept brown hair, accompanied by his warm and sandy hazel eyes.

Wirt cleared his through, fighting back the small blush creeping into his face. He hoped, for the love of all things, that his mild rosacea could hide it for the most part. There was no doubt he found him attractive, and it wasn't any secret to his family that he liked guys. It was no secret from his friends either, really. Wirt never saw it as something to be hidden or ashamed of. Though he also couldn't say he actively talked about this information with total strangers, as one usually wouldn't, he mostly didn't care who knew.

As his family placed their orders, Wirt sat back and watched Dan scrawl them out on paper. Then, it came down to him and Greg,.

“Oh do you have Thai Iced Tea?!” Greg asked, jumping in his seat, practically beaming up at the waiter.

“We do,” Dan replied, laughing along.

“I’ll definitely have that!” He said, exuberance still there, though a bit reeled back this time. He turned to Wirt. “We’re getting the crispy chicken pad thai, right?” He directed the conversation over to his brother.

“Oh, I, um--yeah! Yeah we're gonna get an order of that, along with the shumai, please.” Blanking out for a brief moment when he made eye contact, “And…and...” He lost track of what he was saying.

The waiter smirked, “Could I get you a drink?” He attempted to nudge Wirt in the right direction.

Eyes rounding in mortification, “Oh! I-I'm gonna have the hot oolong tea please,” he shot out, tongue getting caught every step on the way.

“Oh, could I change my drink to that too?!” Greg cut in, his want to be like his brother saving Wirt from himself.

“Not a problem,” Dan smiled. “Can I get you anything else?” He asked the rest of the table.

“That should be it,” Angela replied, glancing around the table to make sure that was the general consensus.

“Alrighty then, your order will be out soon.” Closing his pad of paper and clipping the pen on the top, Dan made his way to the nearest register to key in their order before moving on to another table.

While the rest of the table began to take up conversation, Wirt's mind wandered back to last period in school. There's no way trees just grew leaves that quickly. It may have been spring, but that tree was bare at the beginning of class, regardless of what Sarah may have said. So if his suspicions were true, maybe the Beast was still lurking.

Though, why now? Why would the Beast wait a good two years before appearing again? And why Wirt? He wasn't the one who defeated him, he only figured out how to beat him. Was it possibly for revenge?

This was bizarre to even consider, but what else could it be? This was the only known being that could manipulate trees and nature that he knew of, and that would make sense given the nightmares.

Wirt drummed his fingers against the hardwood surface of the table as he mulled this over. His gaze shifted to Greg while millions of questions swarmed his mind. Was Greg being affected by this? Did he know? Was he having the same dreams? Was he being followed by the Beast, or was it just Wirt?

His gaze shifted once more, this time towards the hanging planter by the entrance of the restaurant. What if that started growing too? It would be a good way to confirm that the Beast was present, always watching over him.

His blood ran cold as the well-maintained draping vittatum spider plant began to grow larger and drape over the edges of its planter. Was this really happening? Was he seeing things or did that really just--

His train of thought was interrupted by a soft jab to the side, “How did you do that?” Greg whispered, awed and confused all at once. Greg’s constant surveillance of his brother led his gaze to the same plant at the same time.

“Ah, I don't know what you're referring to. I...I did nothing.”

“But you did. You looked at the plant and it just, like, grew super fast!” He made a gesture with his hands to further explain his point, “You had this intense look of your face and everything.”

“I-it must have been a part of your imagination or something Greg. People can't control plants, that's just crazy talk.” It was absurd to think Wirt was the one who did it, right?

“Oh, ok I guess.” He continued to stare down his older brother, knowing that something was definitely up and Wirt wasn't talking about it.

Surely it wasn't Wirt, that had to be crazy, right? But was it? The only plants that were growing abnormally fast was the ones he paid attention to, though maybe there were cases that he hadn't noticed so he only believed this to be true. However, this did bring to mind a bigger question that needed answering: was he being followed by the Beast, or possibly possessed?

The drinks were brought to the table, two orders of oolong tea arriving with Asian-style tea cups and two small pots full of freshly steeped tea. Tearing open two sugar packets and pouring both sugar and hot tea in that order in the cup, Wirt was lost in thought once more while he waited for it to cool. This was only momentary, though, as Greg needed help pouring his tea so he wouldn't spill it on the table like he always did.

The rest of that night's dinner went, for the most part, normally, aside from an incident where Greg shouted out, “Noodly noodle, I'm gonna die!” when he noticed that the restaurant had chopsticks instead of forks at the tables, since they had ordered pad Thai, a dish that was mostly noodles. This came to a quick end with Wirt asking the waiter for a fork, which was quickly provided for his brother.

~Pilgrim & The Beast~

Wirt hadn't gotten much sleep that Friday night, or better put, he just hadn't slept. Now that these new questions were swarming around his mind, he had more than just the fear of dreaming to work off of. Was he the one controlling the plants was the one mainly monopolizing his thoughts.

He really couldn't sleep till he got the answers he seeked, though the thought of going outside at night when The Beast really could be lurking out there was terrifying, and his mother and step father's inability to keep plants alive left the house left him with a lack of potted decorative plants.

So he waited all night for the sun to peak over the horizon before he made his way through the ill lit halls of his house, weary of any squeaky floorboards along the way, especially when passing by Greg's door before entering the kitchen. The room was better lit than the rest of the house as the sliding door and large windows leading to the back yard let in amber rays of sunlight that washed the room in a rustic orange hue.

Hindsight would have told Wirt before he got this far that shoes, or slippers even, along with  jacket, would be advised. As the chilly morning air that greeted him as soon as he opened the sliding door and had him turning back into the house in search for both. Nobody wanted to walk through dew soaked grass, let alone on a chilly morning. That's just not pleasant.

As he walked to the front door and caught the attention of his stepfather, who sluggishly making his way down the hall. He was up at 6:30 am on any day of the week. A schedule he adapted to long into his career as a middle school music teacher.

Still in pajamas and face groggy from having just woken up, he met Wirt on the threshold of the kitchen and living room, “Your up early, bud,” he yawned, “couldn't get much sleep last night?” He asked before moving into the kitchen. Though Wirt was most likely awake at this time, it was a rare occurrence to see him leave his room before 9am at the earliest. There was always something that could be worked on, homework and poetry monopolizing those hours; even sketchings that were inspired by his latest dream would occupy him till well into the morning.

It sometimes helped him to cope with his dreams through either writing or drawing them. This wasn’t always the case, however it was always an option.

“Y-yeah, I guess.” He lied.

“You want me to put the kettle on the stove for you? A little caffeine in the morning is always a good fix after a poor night's sleep.” He began shuffling through the cabinets in search of the tub of ground coffee beans to make his morning brew.

“That would be nice,” Wirt stepped back into the kitchen and pulled his favorite mug from the China cabinet, followed shortly by a box of Earl Grey by his favorite brand of tea, Bigelow, “Thanks.”

He supposed his venture into the back yard would have to wait for a little while. When he did his little test he didn't want it to be in sight of the house, making the woods in his backyard the perfect place; full of test subjects, and for the most part, out of sight from the house. Though this did scare him to a degree, as far as his original theory went. The woods would be well lit during the day, however, making in the most opportune time to try it out.

“Not a problem.” James gave a pleasant smile over his shoulder as he clicked the gas stove on and set the red kettle on the burner.

“You got any plans today kiddo?” He asked, pressing the brew button on the coffee maker once everything had been set in place. He moved into the living room, which was accessible to the island in the kitchen that Wirt was seated at. He turned the  TV on, switching it to his preferred news station.

“No, not really.” Wirt slouched in his seat, “I have a science project,” Wirt lied, in lieu of his trip. If he was asked about why he was heading into the woods, which would be a bit weird, he supposed. Why would they even care? But if that was to happen he'd have an excuse, he was in earth sciences this semester, “and some math sheets I have to get done by Monday, so I was thinking of starting most of it today. Kinda chill at home.” He shrugged, swiveling the chair around to face his step dad.

“Sounds fun,” James digressed, “They really do take up most of kids free time with homework now a days, don't they?” He took a seat on the couch, “That's just unfair.”

“Tell me about it.” Wirt groaned and rested his head on the counter.

“Well it's your last year, so you won't have to deal with that for much longer.” James gaze shifted to the television once more, “At least not until college.”

Wirt grunted and tipped his head up so it was resting on his chin. College was definitely going to be interesting to say the least; having received his acceptance letter to Lesley University a few months back. He hoped his roommate wouldn’t be too bothered by his late night shenanigans; though now that he thought about it, that was probably inevitable.

He could totally just get up and go outside. He needed to, once Greg got up it’ll be a hundred times harder to leave the house alone. Wirt really did love his brother, honestly he did, but the kid was glued to his side at all times. He would set out after tea of course. If he was being honest he really needed the caffeine right now, then he would tug on his converse and jacket and be on his way.

Now that we was thinking about it, he could probably just make his tea in a travel mug, which would probably work out in the end. Greg was usually woken up in the mornings by the sound of the whistling kettle. Though that was usually around 10am or so, so that may not be a problem this morning. However he wasn’t too keen on chancing that. So he would switch to one of the few travel mugs in the kitchen cabinet.

And so Wirt patiently waited for the screeching whistle of the kettle, and in a travel mug, made a cup of earl grey. Next was his shoes, then jacket; which were located and out on with minimal effort.

Wirt pushed the sliding door to the backyard open, and with a, “I’ll be back in a few.” He set out into his backyard. The spring air still holding part of winter's chilly bite, had Wirt zipping up his jacket. With one hand firmly holding the warmth of the travel mug and the other in his coat pocket, he walked to the end of the wooden fence where the gate to the woods stood, latch in place keeping it shut.

Wirt flipped the latch open and pushed the gate open. Just a bit further, now, till he felt secluded enough to test his theory.

~Pilgrim & The Beast~

Greg's eyes cracked open at the sharp hiss of the kettle going off in the kitchen. This was his daily alert that told him his brother was up, though today it was pretty early, even by Wirt's standards.

He pushed the blankets off and jumped out of bed, only stopping briefly to feed Jason Funderburker, their bullfrog, and bounce his way to the kitchen.

“I’ll be back in a few.” Was followed shortly by the swoosh and click of the sliding door in the kitchen shutting. He looked out the door to see Wirt walking to the backyard.

“Where's Wirt going?” Greg asked his dad, who was sitting on the living room couch flipping through news channels. He moved from the kitchen to the living room and leaned over the back of the couch.

“Maybe he's just taking a walk through the woods, he likes to do that sometimes.” Taking his eyes away from the tv long enough to rustle Greg's hair and laugh at the way he flopped all the way over the back of the couch so he was sitting upside down, before adding, “Oh and he was talking about a science project earlier, so maybe it's apart of that. He is in earth sciences this term, right?” His gaze shifted back to the news.

“Oh! science experiment!” Greg flipped himself upright, eyes glowing with excitement, “Do you think I could go with him? He couldn't have gotten far right?” He jumped off the couch and bolted for the front door to grab his shoes and jacket.

James’s head turned to follow his son as he scrambled to get his shoes and jacket, “I don't see why not,” he shrugged, “Just stick by him and stay out of trouble.” As a joke he tacked on, “Make smart choices!”

“Okeydokey artichokey!” Greg replied, nearly tripping up the steps from the front door to the living room in his haste, “For science!” He shouted before shutting the door behind him, were he was met with an empty backyard. Following a similar path his brother had done moments before, he found himself surrounded by trees, brambles, and newly sprouting ferns.

~Pilgrim & The Beast~

Finding himself far enough from the house that he felt comfortable, Wirt's eyes scanned the woods for a test subject. He didn't want to leave a noticeable mark in the woods, not that people would really have evidence that it was him, let alone even take notice, but still. If he could do it, and he wasn't being followed by the Beast than why make it some grand thing? It was only a test after all.

His gaze shifted to his feet, were he'd noticed his pajama pants had gotten snagged on some of the brambles that often covered the ground. Guess that would be a good start. He could attempt to free himself, he supposed.

Though now that he was here, was he really gonna try? What if it was him, then what? And if it wasn't, it would only freak him out further; because if it wasn't him-

He didn't want to think about that. Honestly, what was he going to gain from this? Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

But he did walk out pretty far into the woods just for this experiment, and he wasn't about to turn back now without an answer. He had to try. He had to do something. With a sigh, he tried concentrating.

Focusing on the thin wiry brambles that held his pant leg hostage. Right as he'd begun to give up and accept that everything that’s happened could be the Beast's work after all, something of which frightened him more that the possibility of manipulating nature himself, the tangle of barbed twigs snapped to life.

Only not in his favor, as they only climbed there way up his leg, and panic had him drop his tea, “Oh my gosh!” Came Wirt's startled words. “No-no-no-no-no-no!” voice slowly raising to a shout as his panic levels rose.

He began to kick and flail as the twigs reached further up his body, snagging his skin through his pants which only made him panic more, “Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit,” became the mantra Wirt repeated as his panic escalated, and the more he panicked the faster they approached.

He began to pull at the brambles, their barbs puncturing tiny holes in the palms of his hands. With a hiss of pain, he withdrew them from the nasty bite of the thorned plant. The twigs separated itself from his leg almost instantly to follow the tips of his fingers. Stopping right before them.

He heard footfalls from behind him, quick and frantic, “Wirt are you ok?” Greg asked, which fell on deaf ears as Wirt's heart was racing in his ears so bad he only registered a voice. Panic had his mind racing to the thought that the beast was hear, that that voice was the Beast!

Greg grabbed his arm, and like a feral animal getting caught off guard, he jerked away and spun to face him, and Wirt's inability to actually control his newfound power had the briars lurching in Greg's direction.

They tore a jagged cut across his right forearm and jacket sleeve as Greg had attempted to block the projectile. He was knocked back a good foot, landing on his butt.

Both boys stayed in a silent staring match, still processing what had happened; brambles having gone limp seconds after the incident as his focus went from them to his brother. Wirt was the first to come too, original panic being replaced by pure terror, Greg was bleeding.

“O-oh my god,” Wirt reached out to Greg. He fell to his knees and cradled the still silent child's bleeding arm, “I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I-I, are you ok?” One hand reached up to cup his face, inspecting it for any cuts or bruises, of which none were found, “I didn't know, I-I'm so sorry.” Wirt's hands were shaking, “We need to get you back to the house.” He stood up, pulling Greg up as well.

Greg wasn't speaking, wasn't even looking at him. What was going on in his head right now. How much did he see? What conclusion would his head come to? Did he think of Wirt as a monster, like the Beast?

Greg wasn't the only one with thoughts like this racing through their head. Wirt's mind buzzed with newly forming questions. Could he control his ability? Could he suppress it? Why after two years did this start to take effect? All these were shadowed out by another, one triggered by this morning's events, one he had never considered before now.

Was is he a danger to the people around him?

~Pilgrim & The Beast~

That night Wirt sat in his room; his family having gone to bed hours before. Greg had to go get stitches because of him, and that guilt was picking away at his brain. Their parents had accepted the excuse that Greg had tripped over a rock and landed his arm on a fallen branch; as farfetched as it sounds.

Though the brothers knew what happened.

Wirt knew what happened.

This whole situation had Wirt feeling sick to his stomach. After getting Greg back to the house, everything hit him at once. This felt like some messed up dream, though he knew from his track record that this was certainly not a dream. This was reality. His reality. He was why the tree outside the school had leaves budding on the branches, why that spider plant had grown double in size at the restaurant, why Greg was hurt by the brambles.

That wasn't the entire reason behind Wirt's uneasiness, however. What he was really stressed about was what he was going to do next.

Wirt had come to the conclusion that he was dangerous, he couldn't control his power, the brambles being a shining example of that; and because of this, he found himself sorting through his things.

He was going to leave.

He packed his backpack with two pairs of clothes, his toothbrush, his copy of The Kite Runner and a book full of his favorite poets, as well as one of his empty sketchbooks and notebooks along with his pencils case. Purposely leaving his phone on his desk, not wanting to be tracked through it.

He gave his room a once over. This is what he believed to be the last time he'd ever see these four walls, his many clocks he'd acquired over the years, his desk where he sketched and wrote most of his favorite pieces, the burnt orange carpet littered with crumpled papers and sheet music, and the family photographs framed and sitting atop his bedside table.

One photo his mother took of him and Greg by a campfire on their last family vacation over the summer. Both in pajamas toasting marshmallows; Greg was grinning ear to ear and Wirt's smile was shy but content. The trip had been James’ idea, and it was so much fun, despite the mosquitoes and lack of sleep. The other one was a family photograph taken last year on Christmas.

He walked across the room once more and pulled the photographs from their frames to fold and tuck them away in his wallet. Though he was leaving them, it didn't mean he wouldn't miss them.

Tiers prickled in the corners of his eyes as he left his room for the last time. Looking to Greg's room, then to his parents. He was doing this for them. He repeated this to himself as he moved throughout the house. This gave him the drive he needed to continue. He never wanted to be the one to hurt his family again, he didn't want to hurt anyone, for that matter.

He tiptoed down the hall, carefully avoiding any squeaky floorboards, and made his way over to the front door. Stopping by the hall closet and pulling out his old navy blue cloak, pulling it over his shoulders; it would make for a good jacket and blanket later on, then tugged on his sneakers shortly after.

He was ready to leave.

Plucking his motorcycle keys from a bowl by the door, and his helmet sitting close buy, it was time to set off. As the door clicked shut behind him, he breathed in the crisp night air and walked down the steps of the front porch. He strapped his helmet on his head, then stepped down the walkway to the driveway.

Once he got to his bike he knocked the kickstand back and started to walk it down the driveway, then to the end of the street. He didn't want the sound of its engine to alert his family.

He turned back one final time to look at his home he’d grown up in, before turning the key in the ignition, hopping on the bike, and taking off.

He didn't really know where he'd go, only that it would be far from home. As far as he could get, at least. Though first he'd stop off at the nearest ATM to retrieve cash from his checking account.

Over the school year he had earned enough money through his job working in his towns library; so he'd bring his credit card to the nearest ATM and retrieve as much money as his card would let him. This would be the only time he'd be taking money from his account, so he couldn't be tracked through his credit card statements.

Of course he could probably be found if police scanned his plate, but that was a risk he was willing to take, and could be avoided if he took as many back roads as he could manage. He has four hours at the very least to get as far as possible before anyone will take notice that he’s missing.

The street lights painted the barren roads in a melancholy hue. Wirt's bike putted along the road, coming upon the nearest ATM in no time. His bike turned into the parking lot and rolled to a stop outside the entrance of the booth. Knocking the kickstand down, he made his way over to the door and put his card in the scanner, then entered the booth. Doing a similar process once more at the ATM, then keying in his pin. He took out the $500 max his card allowed per day and tucked it away in his wallet. He'd have to ration this money for as long as he could.

After that, who knew.

He exited the booth and pocketed his wallet, mounting his motorcycle once more. Uncertain though he was of where he would go, he set off into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long to finally upload, but I hope it was worth the wait?  
> Anyways, the second chapter is already underway, and as the story progresses I'll have more illustrations for it.  
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be uploaded, sorry.. 
> 
> Follow me for updates on Tumblr: http://teatones.tumblr.com


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